CHPT 368: Two Shape-Shifters walk into a Bar. There's a Joke in there Somewhere....

The walk towards the first bar they could find was quick. The progressive rise in scented potency of Alcohol, sweets, lust, excitement and anger-- even quicker. It was almost nausiating how strong the smells were wafting from the Bar and people on the streets. But that was the experience any being of the WildBorn would have in a modern City. It wasn't built for them. Lupines were no exception.

A fact that only rang truer as they closed in on their first bar.

The Liquid Argent.

An imposing black bricked building crammed between two casinos that survived the test of time, living through the Old World and into the new, now remodeled and damaged by time. The colorful flaming torches glowed with a magical essence that splashed against the surface of the black bricked bar, failing to glow as brightly as the establishments sign bordered by white glowing torches. From where he stood, he could see through the wide box of windows on each side of the building, taking in the dark sensual glow of the building that felt claustrophic even from where he stood.

And as if enough people didn't already populate the place, the roof functioned as a second floor, bordered by silver railings topped with a flaming torch at each corner. All lights, shine and glimmer. The building did everything it could to draw the eyes of all city goers.

Blackbeak perched on the railing, ignoring the yelling and slurred speech of people occupying the rooftop floor behind him as he cast his deep purple eyes down at Claude and Ursula. Squawking loudly as if to say "Stop being scared and go."

Claude shook off the anxiety and brought his Druidic cloak further over his shoulders and pulled his hood over his head. Ursula did the same-- only in reverse, pulling back her cloak to re-tighten her ponytail and adjust her armor before covering back up. Her eyes flashed icy white for a moment.

"There's going to be a lot of belligerent assholes in here."

"[This should be good training for her as well. Risky, but training nontheless. Keep an eye on her, Claude.]" Arne commented as they watched her.

"Remember, we can leave whenever. And if it gets too intense--"

"Deep breaths....through the mouth. Ignore the smells, I remember." She replied.

"Good, lets move."

With nothing left to do, Claude led them inside, pushing open the eightfoot tall thick wooden swing doors to enter.

As soon as they opened, the scents and sounds magnified in an explosion of sensory development. When combined with the scenery of the interior it was almost too much, causing him to sit still and observe for a moment.

The place was.....a lot. The polished wood floor, a sleek spread of dark red wood that ran through the whole establishment, stood sturdily under his weight and held the exact color of blood. A purposeful approach. Also one that failed on his much better developed eyes that could see every stain due to the contrasting light purple glow of the magical torches placed in glass containers stuck to the walls of the Bar.

Below the number of the torches and glimmering purple chandeliers, leather seated booths hugged the walls and corners, centered by small tables that people sat around with drinks larger than their heads.

Further ahead of him, a counter ran in a circle, facing every inch of the Bar where a series of bartenders worked away at giving and mixing drinks, taking bottles from the massive wall of drinks that sat at the center of the circling counter.

At the back of the room, he could see small platforms built around poles and other objects that barely clothed men and women worked on with the toned grace of acrobats. Their shining skin and lithe muscles contrasted strongly with the silver poles and glowing white platforms as they moved to the steady pulsing beats of music.

It was all so stuffed.

"Ursula....are you sure this is a bar?" Claude whispered over to her.

She nodded, "Yes. Some are a bit more raunchy than others. It's all up to how much risk the owner would like to take when trying to earn Money. The purpose of bars is to escape. Find yourself in a small little world away from Monsters and Gods. I guess it's easier to escape those things when more....explicit visuals and baser desires are being catered to. But then, you run the risk of people who can't control themselves....and Shape-Shifters who have more....violent impulses...I'm sure they have a counter for that. Now that I think about it, do we have any weaknesses?"

Claude could smell Ursula's fear. This really was just as important for her. She needed to know she wouldn't.....bear-wolf out and murder everyone at the slightest inconvenience. He needed to know too, because it depended on if they could ever get back to their friends.

"Hey, Coolface, Stop staring at asses and answer my question."

Claude was pulled from his thoughts, "Wha-- No--"

"Weaknesses. Yes or no?"

A deep breath took away the silence between them, "....Lightning. Other than that, they don't really have anything in here that can outright make us change in the slightest....other than their fists....and their fear. We need to be even tempered and try to blend in. We should also split up, we'll cover more ground and look less odd."

Ursula looked at him with concern, "You sure you want to do that? I mean talking to people like this alone?"

Claude shrugged nervously, "Might as well learn in a place where people are likely to forget me by tomorrow morning."

Ursula nodded in agreement and they both gave a final parting nod before splitting up to begin questioning their bars occupants for info on the possible Raider sightings.

After a few minutes of walking and movement through the bar, Claude quickly learned why people were in such an increased celebratory mood. As if the green and red glowing torches outside the building weren't enough of a signifyer.

It was Xmas.

He'd completely forgotten to even consider the holiday that followed after his-- now wretched, birthday.

He forced down the thought as he approached the bartenders massive encircling counter lined with chairs. He shoved the seat meant for him aside, forgetting they were on stiff wood floors, causing the seat to loudly screech across the floor before stopping, smacking into the next chair. The loud music drowned out the sound for the most part but failed in other areas.

The commotion grabbed the eyes of the other members drinking alone at the counters.

"[Bloody hell. Please sit in the damn chair, Claude.]" Arne said in a defeated tone.

"I'm not sitting with my back to the door." Claude replied flatly.

"[Then move, you damn muppet!]"

Robotically, Claude withdrew from the counter and moved until he could effectively side eye the door into the bar and coincidentally, somebody grabbed a seat next to him just as he sat.

He ignored the possible person to question and scanned the room to find Ursula. Through their link, he could feel her presence, like she was an extra limb that he knew the location of through pure feeling. Even so, he let his eyes do the searching he didn't need.

To his left, the pole dancers and half-naked acrobats grabbed the attention of all manner of people tossing coin and compliments. To the right of them, the leather booths reemerged, now centered by individual dancers for a smaller number of people who were undeniably better dressed. He couldn't see anymore due to the bartender and his wall of alcohol blocking the rest of the room.

To his right, all of the bar he'd already seen remained. He found Ursula at a booth with three other women. Heroes based on their scared forearms and the unevenly built shoulder and bicep muscle of one of the women. An Archer probably. She looked calm and relaxed with a drink in hand. Claude was concerned with the sight but didn't want to interrupt her.

"[All you have to do is act just like that, mate.]" Arne spoke.

"Right." Claude replied in thought, motivated by Ursula's social competence.

He turned back to the bartender who was already watching him. A young man with well combed brown hair and fair skin. He must've been working the night shift for quite a while to not have a tan in the Vada District.

"What can I get you, Sir?" He asked, his voice carried comfortably over the pulsing staccato of stringed tunes and soft drums that combined to make music.

"Erhm...uhm...water...cold."

The bartender looked a bit surprised before turning to fetch his request.

"[...I want to fight you.]"

"What?! I'm not drinking Alcohol. I'm underage.."

"[Claude. You're a six and a half foot tall man in a bar...fully geared and masked up with hair that goes down to your chest. And you think you can just come in here and ask for a water while you look around and ask questions. I thought the goal was to blend in, not scream HEY I AM HERE ON BUSINESS AND YOU'RE ALL FAIR GAME!]"

Claude suddenly felt like a fish out of water. The forest-- the wild was his domain. But here, around people of the city. He knew nothing. Every action and it's equally reasonable response seemed to fly over his head like a flock of Griffons.

"[You don't have to drink, but have one on you. So when they see you they see similarity. Come on man, common sense.]"

"Fuck....my bad, my bad." Claude thought in reply before raising his voice to ask the bartender for a proper drink as well.

"What would you like? We've got Gin, Rum....Brandy and Vodka recently imported from Islandia."

Claude stared at the young male bartender with a complete lack of knowledge. Before he could respond accordingly, somebody that reeked of leather and cleaning supplies pulled up a chair next to him and spoke for him.

"They won't tell you this but the Vodka tastes like Snow-Elf piss and the Rum is too spicy."

The bartender smiled faintly at the man's words, "Reagan, you still haven't told us how you know what Elf piss tastes like."

"Yep, and I never will. Happy Xmas." The man said before the two shook up.

Claude turned to see who the bartender was speaking to in response.

His eyes scanned over the clean pale wrist and forearm, shaved of hair and absent of scarring. When the handshake ended the arm returned to the shadows of the man's hairless black cloak that rose up into an opened collar. Naturally, it would've covered the bottom half of his face when closed. Now it sat opened, revealing his aged face and sharp brown eyes.

His badge gleamed from his black cloak surface.

A Detective.

"[Fucking fuck!]"

"Sir, your drink?"

"Gin." Claude said flatly from a mouth completely deprived of all saliva.

"Good choice." The Detective named Reagan said from his left without looking at him.

"And let me get a Vodka!"

The bartender laughed faintly while fetching their drinks.

A few silent minutes passed while Claude turned away from the Detective and played around with his drink-- trying not the let the only man in the room with focused observational abilities notice he wasn't drinking.

"[Just stay calm. Don't leave just yet. There's another man for you to speak too, and if you leave now he's bound to look at you sideways. Even for a moment.]"

Claude understood what Arne was saying and took a deep breath, trying to shake off the anxiety and thoughts of Det. Mixus and Cyrene as he turned to his right to speak to the other man at the counter.

A man in his later ages. A sprinkle of salt and pepper colored beard spread across his jaw only added to the ruggedness of his characteristics. His uncombed hair and tattered clothing was simply icing on the cake.

The urge to shove away his alcoholic beverage and never enter a bar again was strong. He ignored it as he spoke to the man.

"Hey, happy Xmas." He said, raising his cup.

The man slowly turned to face him like a reanimated corpse, aiming his foul morning breath at his masked face. His eyes were so glazed over they could've been colored marbles.

".....The earth and all of it's scourge will die when the suneater rises, only then will this world be pure."

"..."

"[.....]"

Everyone at the counter went silent as the man turned back to face his drink, mumbling silently to himself.

The bartender and Reagan turned to look at him.

"Yea....I think I see my friend over there..." Claude said, capitalizing on the opportunity to leave and swirl around to the opposite side of the circling counter.

The bartender and Detective chuckled awkwardly before raising their glasses to him as he left.

On his way to his new destination he looked back to the booths and found Ursula laughing hysterically with the other women she sat with as they spilled their drinks from slamming the table.

"I'm getting embarrassed out here."

"[All you can do is continue to try. Run it right back, mate.]"

Claude sighed and got back to work. Because that's what it was, work. He needed info. He needed to know if the Raiders were running through the Vada District to reach where the rest of their gang resided in the wilds of SkyHaven. Dead. If it was them and they reach SkyHaven before him, they'll retaliate. And if they do it correctly, people will die, and nobody will care. The Enforcers will have no help in the face of a bigger-- greater threat than basic Raiders. And it would be his fault.

He needed information. Luckily, one of his strong-suits was enduring.

He could run it back all night if he needed to.